Bloody Lessons: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery

by Locke, M. Louisa

  The sister stepped forward and put her hand on Laura’s shoulder in a calming gesture. “Miss, Miss, you will frighten her. She needs peace now. Be comforted. Your friend is in God’s hands, and He will not forsake her.”

  *****

  “Nate, I wish we could be in there with her. Do you think that man was correct, that Laura’s friend is dying?” Annie paced in a tight circle. They stood in a little alcove two doors down from Hattie’s room, where the Sister of Mercy had directed them. The alcove had a painted and gilded plaster Madonna and Child in a niche high up on the wall and a hard wooden bench that looked like it was designed more for penance than comfort. Nate gathered her into his arms, and for a brief moment she felt calm.

  “Let’s give Laura some time with Hattie.” Nate pulled out his pocket watch to check the time, keeping his other arm around Annie. “If she doesn’t come out in the next fifteen minutes, I will go and poke my head in. See what’s going on.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder, but she found her growing anxiety impossible to ignore. She pulled away and moved out into the hall, looking up and down the long corridor, saying, “I just remembered. Mrs. O’Malley, Tilly’s aunt and Biddy’s mother, works at St. Mary’s. I wonder if she is here now?”

  Biddy O’Malley was a good friend of Annie’s maid Kathleen, and she had recommended her fresh-off-the boat cousin Tilly to help out last fall when Kathleen spent so much time helping Annie on her investigations into a couple of fraudulent mediums. Annie had kept Tilly on when the investigation was over, and both Beatrice and Kathleen were determined to turn the shy Colleen into a first rate domestic.

  “Would Mrs. O’Malley be working at this time of night? Doesn’t she need to be home with her children?” Nate said.

  “Maybe. But no. Wednesday nights, Tilly needs to be home by four to take care of the little ones. Biddy’s factory job doesn’t let out until six, and her mother’s shift starts at five. Let’s ask one of the sisters if Mrs. O’Malley is working nearby.” Annie began to walk down the hall towards the two Sisters of Mercy who were standing at the large windows at the end of the corridor.

  She felt a tug at her shoulder and heard Nate say, “Annie, wait a minute. By all means, let’s ask if we can speak to a doctor, find out more about Miss Wilks’ condition. But I don’t see why you want to get Mrs. O’Malley involved.”

  “Have you ever tried to get a doctor to reveal anything definite about a patient? Back in New York, one of the ways I kept a roof over my head was to volunteer to sit at the bedsides of any of my in-laws who were ill. I can tell you it made me furious to see the way the attending doctors answered every question with medical twaddle and polite hemming and hawing that conveyed nothing. Anyone with eyes in their heads could tell when a patient was in a bad way, but the doctor always pretended all was well, until it wasn’t. Then it was anybody else’s fault but their own. And you heard the sister who brought us here. We should put our faith in God. I doubt very much if either the doctors or the sisters will give us any details, at least not to someone who isn’t a relative.”

  “But what can Mrs. O’Malley tell us?”

  “I don’t know. But we can at least ask her if she has heard anything about Hattie, and I bet she will know which doctor is the most competent, so we can make sure she is getting the best care.”

  When Annie asked the two sisters if Mrs. O’Malley was working nearby, they told her that she was just up the corridor that connected the three wings of the hospital. Annie, motioning to Nate to follow her, went quickly past the nuns and turned the corner. There, as promised, was a woman scrubbing at a spot on the tiled wall. She was dressed in dark gray, with a white apron that went almost down to the bottom of her skirt, and a bucket of soapy water sat at her feet. She straightened and turned as Annie approached, letting the sponge drop into the bucket. The white cap, which completely covered her hair, framed a thin, tired, and lined face. But when Annie reached out her hand, introducing herself, Mrs. O’Malley’s blue eyes sparkled, and she broke into a wide grin as she wiped her hands on her apron so she could enthusiastically pump Annie’s hand.

  “Glory be, Mrs. Fuller, I’m ever so glad to meet you and thank you for all you’ve done for our Tilly. When she arrived at our doorstep this summer, we couldn’t get two words out of her, scared little thing. Never been off her da’s farm back in Ireland; mucking out the pigs and baby tending’s all she knew. But now when she comes home from your place, she’s chattering about the proper way to set a table, how she ironed her first shirt, and she amuses the children with her stories about tricks the little dog is up to. It’s a marvel the change you’ve made in the girl.”

  Annie smiled and said, “Don’t thank me. It’s Mrs. O’Rourke, my cook and housekeeper, and Kathleen Hennessey you should thank. They have taken her under their wings. But your niece is a fine girl, and you should be proud of her.”

  Having come up behind Annie, Nate bowed and shook Mrs. O’Malley’s hand, introducing himself.

  “Oh, Mrs. Fuller, I was that surprised to see you I didn’t ask. Is it one of your friends or family that’s brought you here?” Mrs. O’Malley asked.

  “A young friend of Mr. Dawson’s sister was brought into St. Mary’s this evening after a bad fall,” Annie replied. “A Miss Hattie Wilks. She is in a private room down the next hallway. I believe the room number is twelve. We haven’t been able to find out anything about her condition and wondered if you might have heard anything?”

  “Oh, my. Room Twelve, you say? The poor girl with all the broken bones?”

  “Yes, yes, that is her. She evidently fell down some steps at her boarding house earlier this evening. What have you heard?” Annie asked, frightened by the way that Mrs. O’Malley was wringing her hands.

  The older woman came closer and said quietly, “Mrs. Fuller, would you mind if we stepped away and spoke privately? I am not sure I feel comfortable talking in front of the gentleman, you understand.”

  Annie didn’t understand but nodded in agreement anyway. Holding up her hand to Nate to indicate he should stay put, she walked with Mrs. O’Malley a little way further down the hallway.

  Looking up and down the hall to make sure there wasn’t anyone else to overhear, Mrs. O’Malley whispered, “The good sisters don’t think she’ll make it through the night. God rest her soul. The poor thing lost so much blood even before she got here, you see, and the sisters haven’t been able to stop the flow. Just terrible. And her little babe didn’t stand a chance.”

  *****

  Laura’s head throbbed, and she realized she had been breathing in the same halting, shallow rhythm as Hattie. She inhaled deeply as if this would fill her friend’s lungs, and she said again, “Hattie. What can I do? I’m here. I won’t leave you. I promise.”

  Hattie’s hand twitched in her own, then grabbed hold tightly. Her friend’s eyes were now wide open, and her lips were moving silently. Leaning so close she could feel a faint stir of breath on her own cheek, she pleaded, “Hattie, what is it? Tell me. Do you need some water?”

  As she began to pull away to reach for the glass on the bedside table, Hattie rasped out, “No…Laura. No…time. Sorry…never meant to…must tell….”

  “Tell me what? Hattie, never say you’re sorry. It’s me who should apologize for being such a cross patch about your plans. We are going to get you well, and then you will have a beautiful wedding, and everything is going to be wonderful.”

  Hattie shook her head sharply side-to-side and struggled out a few more words. “Accident…No…not…tell Andrew…I didn’t…”

  “Oh, Hattie, don’t fret. Of course it was an accident. No one blames you. I am sure he will come as soon as he hears what happened. You can tell him yourself.”

  Hattie grimaced and tugged on Laura’s hand weakly, her eyes again shutting and her chest heaving. Laura stroked her hair with trembling hands, saying, “Hattie don’t try to talk; you are too weak.”

  “Miss, let her speak,” the sister said quie
tly, startling Laura, who had forgotten she was there. “She needs to unburden herself before she meets our Lord. It will bring her peace.”

  “Don’t you dare say that. She’s going to be fine. She just needs to rest and heal. If you want to help, go get a doctor. She needs medical attention, not prayer.”

  When she turned back to Hattie, she could see that her lips were tinged with blue. Panicking, she slid her arms under her friend’s shoulders, cradling her to her chest, saying, “Hattie, my love. Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

  She felt Hattie stir in her arms and heard her say in the thinnest of whispers, “Tell him…not his fault…tell him…he needs to know…pushed…pushed…” Then she exhaled in a long sigh and breathed no more.

  Chapter Twelve

  Late Wednesday evening, January 14, 1880

  "The sudden death of Minnie Williams better known as Minnie C. Baldwin, on Monday last...received but little attention. Since then, however, certain matters connected with the death have been elicited which tend to throw a shade of suspicion over the matter." ––San Francisco Chronicle, 1880

  “Kathleen, please tell Mr. Dawson that I won’t be coming back down. He should go home because there is nothing more he can do here. You can inform him I will be staying in Laura’s room tonight so she won’t be alone. Then off to bed with you and make sure Mrs. O’Rourke has retired.”

  Annie stood just outside the door to Laura’s room on the second floor of the boarding house. It was nearly midnight, and she knew Kathleen would need to get up in about four hours to start the kitchen stove in preparation for breakfast for the early risers among the other boarders.

  “Yes, ma’am. Can I bring you more tea first?” Kathleen asked. When Annie shook her head no, the young maid moved swiftly to the back stairs on her way to the first floor parlor where Nate would be waiting impatiently for news.

  Annie noted that even in the midst of this crisis, Kathleen didn’t even think of taking the more direct route down the front stairs. Such foolishness. Yet having once been a domestic herself, if only for a short time, she knew how ingrained it was for a maid to use the back way.

  Esther Stein, who occupied the suite of rooms across the hallway with her husband, sat with Laura while Annie went next door to her own room to change into her dressing gown and slippers. She didn’t expect she would sleep, but she knew from experience how wretched she would feel sitting up all night, fully dressed, with her corset stays becoming increasingly unbearable.

  When Annie returned to Laura’s room, Esther whispered, “I will be glad to stay with her if you want, since you have to get up and meet your clients in a few hours.”

  “You are kind, Esther, but no. I promised I would stay close. My heart just breaks for her. Her mother is who she really needs right now. I hope she will let us send word, but…that can wait until tomorrow. No, you go on back to bed.”

  She gave the older woman a quick hug and closed the door behind her. Kathleen had undressed Laura and gotten her into bed, but she was sitting up, her arms clasped around her raised knees, her long dark hair hiding her face. Annie noticed that Queenie, the old black kitchen cat, had snuck in and was curled up beside Laura.

  She stood for a moment to see if Laura would raise her head. When Nate’s sister didn’t acknowledge her presence, Annie walked over to the rocking chair that sat by the fire. She lowered the flame of the oil lamp on a nearby table and sat down. There was an active fire going in the fireplace, and Annie found the heat oppressive. Nevertheless, she knew that Laura needed the warmth to counter her shock and exhaustion. She sat and rocked and thought back over what had happened earlier in the evening after Mrs. O’Malley had shared the startling information about Hattie’s pregnancy and predicted she would not live through the night.

  Annie hadn’t had time to tell Nate what Mrs. O’Malley said before they’d heard Laura’s screams. When they got to the hospital room, the Sister of Mercy was trying to pull the sobbing girl back from where Hattie lay. Annie had sat by enough deathbeds to know what that waxen stillness meant. Nate rushed past her and grabbed Laura from the nun, folding her in a tight embrace. This seemed to quiet her for a moment, but then she tore herself away from her brother and threw herself back on the bed, crying and pleading for Hattie not to go.

  Annie had just moved forward to see if she could do anything to calm Laura when a harsh male cry arrested her attention. A man who she guessed must be Hattie’s fiancé, Andrew Russell, stood in the doorway. Out of breath, brown hair standing up in clumps, eyes hidden behind thick glasses, he held out a soft slouch hat in his extended hands, as if in supplication. Before either Nate or Annie were able to act, Laura scrambled up and launched herself at Russell, hitting him in the chest and screaming that Hattie was dead and that it was all his fault. It had been an appalling scene, with Russell feebly pushing Laura away as he struggled to get to Hattie’s bedside. Finally, Nate had to pick up his hysterical sister from off the ground in order to move her out of the room. The Sister of Mercy had stood in shocked silence.

  Out in the hall, Laura continued to sob uncontrollably, scarcely able to take a breath. Annie finally told her sharply that if she didn’t settle down, they would have to take her home immediately, and she wouldn’t be able to say a proper farewell to her friend. This got through to Laura, and she gradually stopped crying. While Nate continued to hold her tightly, Annie went back in to the room, where Russell was now sitting in the chair next to Hattie, holding her hand and whispering endearments. Apologizing to both Russell and the sister for Laura’s outburst, Annie asked if Laura could come back in for a minute. Russell had been most kind, assuring Annie that this would be acceptable, and he went and stood in one of the dark corners of the room. Nate had led his sister back in, and she sat in the chair that Russell had just vacated. She took up Hattie’s hand and silently stroked her hair.

  Annie went over to Russell to tell him how sorry she was for his loss and ask if he would be able to inform Hattie’s parents of her death. He’d said he would take care of this, then took off his glasses to wipe the tears from his eyes, looking like a lost boy. Haltingly, he explained that he had arrived at Hattie’s boarding house earlier that evening to learn that she had fallen and been taken to St. Mary’s. Then he asked Annie if she knew exactly what had happened. Annie told him that she understood that there had been internal bleeding, but he should ask the Sister of Mercy for more details. She didn’t feel it was her place to break it to him that he had lost both future wife and a child at the same time. Maybe he didn’t even know Hattie had been pregnant. Annie hadn’t told her own husband about her pregnancy, and John had died never knowing about the miscarriage.

  About this time, Laura had begun to cry again, and Nate gently informed her that they needed to leave. She had kissed Hattie’s forehead and let herself be led away. She continued weeping until they were nearly home. Nate carried her up to her room, where Kathleen brought her a cup of sweetened tea. After Laura gulped down two cups, she listlessly accepted Kathleen’s offer to get her ready for bed. That was when Annie had sent Nate back downstairs and Esther had come out of her room, exhibiting her clear disapproval that Nate had been up on the second floor.

  Annie, who was thinking about how her older friend had shifted so rapidly from stern guardian of Annie’s reputation to sympathetic friend once she learned the true state of affairs, heard movement from the bed. She said quietly, “Laura, can I get anything for you? Do you feel able to lie down and try to go to sleep?”

  Laura looked up and pushed her hair away from her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her nose and lips raw from the extremity of her grief. Annie got up and fetched a towel and wash cloth from the washstand. She dipped the cloth in the cooling water in the basin, wrung the cloth out, and then gently bathed and dried Laura’s face. Noticing a brush and ribbon on the bedside table, she said, “Would you like me to brush and braid your hair for you? Would that help?”

  Laura nodded and lowered her knees into a cross-legge
d position, turning slightly so Annie could sit down on the bed behind her. Queenie got up in a huff, walked majestically down to the end of the bed and back, and climbed into Laura’s lap, deigning to permit the girl to stroke her back. For some time, there were no other sounds in the room besides the purr of the cat, the pop of the wood fire, and the brush sliding through Laura’s dark brunette waves.

  “Annie,” the girl whispered. “I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

  “Shush, now. Never you fret about it. No one blames you. You’ve had a terrible shock.” Annie began to braid the hair in one long plait.

  “Nate told me your mother died when you were young. I can’t imagine how awful that would have been.”

  “Yes, but I was here visiting my aunt and uncle at the time, so I don’t know what it is like to actually be with someone I loved when they died. And Hattie was so young and her death unexpected. That makes it worse. I do think that in time you will be glad you got to say goodbye. I have always regretted that I wasn’t present for either of my parents’ deaths.”

  Laura didn’t respond, and Annie worried that she’d gone too far. Laura, seven years her junior, seemed very young and inexperienced. Yet when Annie was just a year older than Laura, she’d already lost her mother, her father, her unborn child, her fortune, and her husband. And she’d no one to confide in, no one’s shoulder to cry on. No one at all. She hoped that the younger girl would make it through this terrible tragedy with fewer scars than she herself had accumulated.

  A few minutes passed, and then Laura said plaintively, “I feel like I have been living in a nightmare, ever since this autumn when Hattie got the job in San Francisco and we had to part. Cupertino Creek School was the beginning of the nightmare. Not just the teaching. I did get better at that over time. But it was so dreadful living with the students’ families, and there was this boy in the school, Buck. He wouldn’t let me alone. For a while, things improved when Seth, Seth Timmons, a classmate from San Jose, started coming over from San Jose on weekends. But then Seth and Buck…well, never mind, the important point is that the term ended and I got the offer to teach here. I thought the nightmare was finally over. I would come up to San Francisco and be with Hattie, as we had planned, and everything would go back to normal. But it wasn’t over. First the man in the alley and then Hattie turning her back on all our plans…then tonight…” Laura’s voice trailed off.